Midnight Syrups
by wahinetoa
Summary: StormGambit. Bountiful lovin'. Remy catches his Stormy being naughty, and decides to up the stakes a little more. StoRmy OreO. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

Midnight Syrups wahinetoa  
  
Dislcaimer: Storm and Gambit are owned by Marvel Comics and Chris Claremont.  
  
Dedicated to: All unconventional shippers - loving who they love, and not giving a fig who knows it.  
Awesome Aceness and Marikosan7, who continue to knock our socks off everytime they write.  
  
Stolen pleasures.  
  
He watched her from the temporary obscurity of the kitchen doorway, drinking in the rare and tempting sight.  
  
Ororo in determined rascal mode, leaned precariously close to the invisible alarm that was set to protect Logans secret-notsosecret stash of Kaluha Midnight syrup in the overhead cabinets. It was just perfect for her ice-cream fetish she was currently indulging. The scandalously silky material of her nightie was pulled across her shapely toosh, as she stretched to reach upward, finally snaring the slim bottle, triumphantly.  
  
Remy couldn't hold back a mirthful chuckle, alerting the suddenly blushing Cairo thief to her circumstances. She spun on her heel, momentarily flushing with discovery, but seeing whom had caught her, she quickly regained her dignified air by ignoring his highly bemused, highly irritating grin.  
  
He had been evoking in her dark desires, of late, to which she found herself responding. He accused her of not 'being fun' when she beat his sorry toosh in the danger room for the last three sessions.  
  
Since then, fire burned in her blood - not to prove him wrong, but to herself... she was far from being a matron. There was no better way to stab at old age than to provoke death, in nicking Logans stash of illegal hooch.  
  
Allowing Remy a glimise of the new Storm - simply, a perk of dangerous craving.  
  
"Remy," she chided softly, her back to him. "I didn't imagine you'd be up this late."  
  
"I bet ya didn', chere," his voice slightly husky, as his gaze took in her scantily clad form. A form; he had begun to realize, evoked stronger emotions and physical reactions he could no longer keep to himself.  
  
Ororo turned back to him, having first ladled a healthy amount of syrup into her bowl, interrupting his simmering admiration of her body, eyes bewitching.  
  
"I hope it is not for mischievous reasons?" She paused briefly to scoop up the decadent stolen desert, contemplating it with a connoisseurs eye, "Although I admit, your skills in such matters -- are highly recommendable."  
  
Without breaking eye contact, she slipped the creamy treat between her parted full lips and allowed the sinful delight to be claimed with an audible rumble of pleasure.  
  
A tiny smile of genuine admiration momentarily curved Gambits lips at the audacity. Her chiding HIM, while she enjoyed the booty of her own midnight escapade! This was too much.  
  
Her unspoken challenge caught and held him. Intrigued and bewitched, something in him tightened, deliciously at her stubborness. Her blatant defiance. Mon Dieu, had he ever known such passion as this before?  
  
Stormy had gone on the offensive. A thrill of excitement coursed through him... no woman ever challenged him without being taken up upon it.  
  
Remy pushed himself away from the doorjamb and advanced on her slowly, until she was backed up against the counter. The only way of escape was to move to either side, but he knew as she did, she would do neither. Defiant as always, he stood mere inches from her, the plate of ice-cream she held, pushed to the side.  
  
Seemingly forgotten; in the face of more exquisted temptation.  
  
His gaze flickered to her mouth, slightly parted, so full, so luscious. The brassy pout of them; tainted delicately with caramel dark syrup, drew him to caress those curves, to claim them. As his own.  
  
How long 'ave ah waited for dis?  
  
"Ah'm glad dat me abilities please ya, Stormy," Remys voice was raspy and velvetly deep.  
  
She watched in tantalizing shock as he leaned dangerously close, nuzzling her cheek with his; rough with stubble, evoking a keening inside her. His warm, hard mouth brushing repeatedly against her flushed mocha dark skin.  
  
"Shall we move on, den chere.." he continued softly, the heat of his man-biscuityness searing her; Remys mouth skimmed hers - daring. Demanding.  
  
".. to de skill in which A'hm de best?"  
  
The end.  
  
?? 


	2. 2

Midnight Syrups by wahinetoa Rating: PG13 to R (on the safe side) 

Thanks to Brandi, who got me looking for this fic again. And dedicated to the GambitandStorm groups as well as .  
everyone who still believes.

More coming soon, just changing the naff ending a wee bit.

Hope you like.

Panic fired her blood, as he leaned forward. Would he dare? She tensed, her heart pounding in her ears. The answer too apparent.

She dredged up stone cold denial as she felt his lips brush against her mouth, before the rough eager skill of Remys tongue slid along her bottom lip, wet and slow, evoking heat to settle deep in her belly.

Oh, yes. Yes - he dared.

He pulled back just enough to allow her to see what restraint he kept - for all the good that would do either of them.

Helplessly he ran his tongue over his own lips, tasting her. Tasting the syrup. But mostly, just the rich sweetness that was his Stormy.

"Ah was talkin' about tastin' de syrup. O'course." he offered, a wolfish grin tugging at the corner of his oh-so delectable mouth.

He watched bemusedly, as one snowy brow arched in utter disbelief. Dieu, but could he have fun.

Before she could rejoin, he leaned in closer yet again, effectively stilling any outraged protest, by pressing his taut and lean frame against her softer one.

"Stormy," he chided all too softly, placing a whispery kiss along her sable cheek, grazing her jaw as he did, with the warm pads of his fingers. "Wha' eveh else yo' 'ad in mind, mon chere?"

What she had in mind, involved a stick of well aimed dynamite.

The smoldering fire in her belly, shot to her chest, before she could quell it - it was too late. Her gaze zeroed in on him, like a hunter marks his prey. He just managed to catch her breathy response to his challenge.

"Get your own."

Abruptly, the air rushed from Gambit's lungs as he found himself suddenly sandwiched between the unyielding wall to the side and the tigress before him.

With all the practiced grace and dominance of a rake seducing an ingenue, she reclaimed the lingering traces of mocha dark from his lips, his curvaceous and wonderfully silent mouth.

Shame not to take advantage of such a rare opportunity.

Her mouth molded his to her will, and such a will it was.. her agile tongue caressing, teasing and demanding. Her hands reflecting the struggle, clutching at his shoulders, his neck, his hair for purchase. For something more than just a midnight game of dare, between too sleepless companions.

She was rapidly loosing herself to this, as his hands found their way to the small of her back, skimming, floating up her spine.. suddenly they were gone. Briefly contemplating their hungry absence, Ororo wanted to laugh with joy on the realization -- he was far making up for it in other departments.

Their bodies strained to be closer, pressed intimately and securely.

His hands appeared on her skin, as if by magic, again.. happily devoid of restraint. Sliding down along her taut bronze thigh,  
curling his warm fingers over the flesh and muscle - trembling with anticipation as the Cajun lifted it to his waist. With great satisfaction he nestled his lower body intimately between her thighs.

The masculine groan of pleasure rumbling from his chest at their powerful embrace, confirmed it. The responding delight in her bones, sealed it.

Fear of the unknown, made her move.

Away.

Still giddily drunk at such wanton behavior from his Stormy girl, he grins impishly down at her, This entire situation to his liking. Here, he is with the only woman in the world to resist his considerable charms and advances, and she's more than making up for it. What he sees in her eyes, instead, makes any brief victory fall silent.

Her eyes were hard as sapphire, but her lips were soft and yielding. Determined to keep her gaze from him, he made sure she'd have a hard time doing that.

"O-Ororo?" Her name sounded like a warning. A plea. Pity she wasn't in the mood to take it. His arms held her tightly, refusing to let her go, trembling with every harsh breath he took -- they both struggled to take after such a delicious long time without. She tugged harder, and felt his frustrated growl shimmer into her own wishful bones.

"Don' fight it, chere."

She shoved him backwards, before she could drag him closer. Frightened by what he was offering her. What they had denied each other too long.

"Stolen," she bit out more harshly than she intended, still reeling from their molten kiss a few moments before. Not speaking of the stolen syrup, they both knew. "Not mine. Never mine."

He held himself still, although Remy wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, so badly, and make her understand there was no escape from this, from him. Shake her till she reached the same conclusion as he had, since Logan had married Rogue in Hong Kong 2 years ago.

Their hearts belonged to the ones they overlooked for so long. There was no denying it, not anymore.

No matter what he did to assure her, how close Stormy came to knowing it - she pulled away.

Now, he neededHER to make the first move.

And she did.

Picking up the abandoned plate of soupy ice-cream, Ororo hurried out of the kitchen swallowing angry sobs down.

Remy growled with frustration. Whether it was her running out, or him letting her do so, without stopping her, he wasn't sure. But in the ensuing, mocking silence - his body thrumming with desire - his eagle eyes took in a slip of card attached to the bottle of syrup.

Picking it up, curiously, he read it quickly, eyebrows rising. What he read made him snatch away from the counter,  
his blood boiling in response and surged powerfully from the kitchen in a roaring shaking wildness, he'd ever known.

Dat. Lill'. Brat.

tbc


	3. ending

Midnight Syrups by wahinetoa rating: PG13 - R (for safety sake)

Letter in italics.

The Mansion kitchen door exploded outward. The force behind which, feverly stalked out, intent, trench coat billowing like a thundercloud. Mostly, Remy LeBeau was already a force to be reckoned with - but when riled, such as he was - pray you weren't the one he is focused on.

And there she is.

_Dear Ororo;..._

Relief sluiced through his veins she had not run, as well as some other bidden arousal.

His gaze sort, found and devoured hers. Blatant primal awareness swelled between them on a tidal wave intent on making, and crashing, its way to shore.

What he found there made him cry out.

_Find enclosed Logans Syrup for your express use. Don't ask how I acquired it. Some things, rightfully, elude definition._

A primal male sound that whetted the air, erasing the scarce space between them. Her breath hitched, heart racing towards an endless fall.

That slow easy grace that maddening cock-sure grin - boyish enough to be disarming, dangerous nonetheless, of a man in possession of a womans heart and body.

She was never sure of what lay beyond it - but she knew, as he did now, she would be finding out.

_Remys been after this for years, never knowing that the trick was not to steal it - but for it to be given..._

Something snapped in his mind, and he's moving before he knows quite what is happening.

His body slammed against her unresisting own, planting themselves against the hard surface of the wall. The plate clatters, loudly to the floor. Discarded from trembling fingers, clawing, instead, at another brazen mark.

So many ways for those wicked, wicked cocoa warm hands to content themselves.

_Your unexpected gift, of which, I'm sure - he will be more than happy to repay in kind..._

His muscled arms either side of Ororo, flexing tight about her scantily clad form. Almost bruising and tender, catching her to him.

Images flash through his muddled brain, pleasing. A great deal of fantasies started such as this - against a wall.

Dieu, he could show her...

_That's if you let him..._

Ororo gasps, a strangled sound when his body joins hers. Blue eyes are wet and alive with the passion, the achingly familiar waiting and smoldering victory.

Admiration for her increased. Yes, he had been well and truly caught. The trickster, tricked. Brava, Stormy. Now she had him, did she know what to do with him?

_Beware, the Cajuns skills might surprise you,  
and he turn the tables..._

Gambits thigh between her own, hard and pressing. An illicit groan blooms in her throat, shimmering into his skin, his blood. Boiling.

"Mine!" he ground out brusquely, his body surged with burning arousal, ready to do what was long overdue between them.

But he needs her to say the words. Not a game between them - both would loose, and loose willingly, this and every night after - but first, he needed...

"Say it, chere."

Her response, immediate. Eyes flashing, mouth twisted into a delicious grin, her clever hand found its way into his unruly hair at the nape of his neck, hauling him in and down...

_.. in a way befitting your pleasure, no doubt, will find a suitable goddessly reply._

... "Yes."

He's not waiting; because Mon Dieu! - he's waited long enough. His fist is in her hair, taking possession of her neck, fingers plying their yearning as his mouth descends on hers.

Devouring her softness with unapologetic glee. She parted her lips in a sigh, accepting his urgency, his thrusting masculine demand - that there will be no ease and calm in their long overdue union.

No.

It would be full of passion, vigor and hunger. It would be unrelenting, unforgiving and she would scream his name a thousand times before they reached his room.

If they reached his room.

_..Wish him a Happy Birthday from me too..._

Then he'd make sure to thank her again.

His hand at the small of her back, bending her body to his.  
Snatching, clasping her closer.. near weeping for wanting.

Their panting sobs, swallowed by murmuring, thrilling exhilaration. Her hands pulling at the material of his attire, stripping in their questing need, nails raking on his skin.

He tears his mouth from hers, hissing her name with delight. But she is far from through with that delectable mouth of hers, as he feels its velvet depth on his heated skin. Tasting. Marking.

Hellion.

_Love Jean._

His red on black orbs peel open, settle on her, heavy with need.

Her eyes contain a dark fervor that he's always suspected, but never imagined like this.

She doesn't kiss him again, but bites his bottom lip and growls.

"Now."

Suddenly, he's not capable of standing on his own.

_PS_

Capable of other things though.

He rears back, pushing his hips forward, grinding their lower bodies harder. She whimpers, and it's all he needs to take back control.

Moves her blindly along the wall, pictures, hall tables are turned over and fall to the floor, in their wake. Ororo is stumbling along in his footsteps, trusting him to lead them.

Take them where they need to be.

The door of his bedroom falls open under their combined weight.

Stuck, maddeningly, on the threshold?

_I'd absolutely love --_

Panic again fires through her. He's changed his mind?

He pulses forward against her once, fighting his need to continue the erotic foreplay. He might be lost, if he's not careful.

It manages however to still the doubt he sees there in her eyes.  
She's struggling for lucidity, but he's got no intention of letting her reach it.

He holds one hand outstretched from his side, eyes focused and hot on the object floating into his grasp. She wonders at this new power of his, before a chuckle erupts from her throat.

What he holds in one hand is the pilfered bottle of syrup. What he's holding in the other.. is a future worth keeping.

Ororos dark shoulders and that beautiful neck that seems to go on forever, just like the python strong legs hooked about his hips,  
tremble with her laughter. Tighten with confidence.

Audacious. Wonderful. Remy.

When she feels his hands framing her face, the whispered endearment, she finally meets his wild eyes. Knowing. He loves her.

"Stormy..."

And that all it takes.

Her delectable mouth finds his, disclaiming any other words, with a vigor and passion that drove the air from his lungs, and kicked his blood, pulsing...

Pulling him across the threshold into their room. She's got plans for the syrup and for him.

Coincidentally, they're one in the same.

_to see the look on his face, when he gets it._

Oh, sweet mercy.

The End.


End file.
